


Repetition

by inertial



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 03:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13825617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inertial/pseuds/inertial
Summary: Youngjae wakes up to an empty bed, alone. But it's okay. He can wait for Daehyun another day more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2012, so please forgive the awkward writing style HAHAHA.

 

[Repetition](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2ae5qRWPCg)

 

Youngjae wakes up on an unkempt bed in the morning, alone.

The blanket wrapped around his body isn't warm enough, and neither is the intense sunlight streaming in through the windows. Youngjae sits up groggily, weaving a hand through his disheveled sienna brown fringe.

It, of course, cannot replace Daehyun's hand affectionately running through his hair.

The first thing he does when he rises from the bed is to saunter to the kitchen, where he brews himself a cup of coffee. On the dish rack lays Daehyun’s mug that's collected quite a small bit of dust, so Youngjae decides to give it a quick rinse.

It's expected though. Daehyun's business trip is seventeen days long, and Youngjae has been counting down, counting till the day his husband finally returns from overseas. It's really all he has been doing to ease the ache, counting, counting and counting-

Youngjae perks up. He blinks rapidly and furrows his eyebrows, roaming from his position of leaning against the counter. It’s a stance Youngjae has become accustomed to ever since he moved in with Daehyun—he has the tendency to pin Youngjae against the kitchen counter whenever he is cooking, ravaging his lips as Youngjae chides him to stop or else their dinner catches fire.

Daehyun never does, though, because he knows Youngjae loves it discreetly.

Youngjae looks at the day calendar and smiles, getting ready to rip off yesterday’s date. _1st November_. He must be a little out of his mind today, he apparently had a dawning delusion that Daehyun should have came back yesterday-

The digital clock catches his eye from his peripheral view, and Youngjae trains his focus on it. He frowns in bewilderment as he picks up the silver device, gazing confusedly at the object.

Staring him right in the face is the date following Daehyun’s return. _3/11_.

Youngjae scratches his head, evidently perplexed. He places down the clock and retreats a step back, lower plump lip trapped between his teeth. _Was Daehyun’s flight delayed? Or did I take down the date wrongly?_

Youngjae plops down onto the couch, recollecting the events of yesterday. He doesn’t remember anything, no, nothing at all. What had he been doing?

“ _I’ll be back soon, I promise.”_

Youngjae’s fingers knit together anxiously, and his chocolate brown orbs flicker to the wall clock that ticks softly. It is the only accompanying sound for him in the empty house, once occupied by the two of them.

 _No, I’m sure Daehyun will come back soon_ , Youngjae muses to himself as he tears the page, revealing Daehyun’s return date. _2nd November._ His home is hauntingly silent, and Youngjae’s gentle steps are even audible in the still atmosphere.

_It’s the last day, I can wait._

The seventeen days Youngjae has spent awaiting his lover, the man who had held him in his embrace and whispered sweet nothings to him, the man who had kissed Youngjae passionately and brought him immeasurable happiness, the man who had intercepted the streaks of tears running down Youngjae’s face and gifted him with all the security he needed.

_Yes, I can wait, because it’s Daehyun._

He strolls to the bathroom to perform his daily ablutions, and afterwards, he retrieves a pail of water and a mop to clean up the house. Following his first task of the day are several other chores Youngjae carries out occasionally, like a pattern he has fallen into, a cycle he repeats day after day. The excitement courses through his entire body as he smiles to himself constantly.

As night falls, Youngjae's happiness slowly evaporates into a whirl of confusion and anxiety. Daehyun doesn’t return even when black peeks through the curtains Youngjae has stubbornly drawn. His mind is plagued with worries, qualms and a chilling sense of foreboding, but- _I can wait._

Youngjae finishes his daily routine and flings himself onto the newly made bed, and falls into a slumber.

 

 

 

 

 

_“It’s another five hours, right? I can wait,” Youngjae whispers into the phone, heart skipping at the thought of finally being able to see Daehyun._

_“I’ll be back soon, I promise.” The bass voice rustling through the phone soothes every nerve in Youngjae’s body as he lets out a contented smile._

_“I love you,” Youngjae quavers slightly as he clutches at the receiver stuck to his ear, intently indulging in the deep reverberations._

_“I love you too, Youngjae,” Daehyun’s words tangle with a sigh of relief and happiness. Youngjae hears the rolling wheels noisily running past the ridges in the floor and he bids Daehyun farewell, disconnecting the call._

 

 

 

 

 

Youngjae wakes up again to a bed occupied by him and him only.

He sits up and this time, it doesn’t take him much to snap out of his sleepy trance as his gaze lingers on the empty space beside him. Youngjae’s fingers trail gently over the side of the bed that still remains neat, and envisions Daehyun sleeping beside him, dribble running down his chin. His dream jolts a strange feeling in him, something he can’t comprehend, something he can’t put his finger on, so he tries to forget about it.

There is a rising feeling that suffuses Youngjae’s chest, something that suffocates him as he steps out of the room. The hallways are silent, much too quit for Youngjae as he tentatively tears off a sheet from the calendar hanging by the wall—then, he notices the same date from yesterday staring him right in the face. _2nd November._

 _Did I dream about the whole of yesterday?_ Youngjae frowns deeply, fingernails digging into his palm. He clearly remembers tearing the calendar to see the date 2nd November yesterday.

Youngjae heads over to the kitchen and makes himself a cup of coffee. The caffeine-tainted drink tastes hollow as he chugs it down, and he proceeds to pick up Daehyun’s cup.

It’s dusty, so Youngjae wipes it with the rag lying lazily on the table top.

_Daehyun’s coming back today._

Youngjae smiles and calms himself down, now reassured that everything had just been a mere dream—a nightmare to be more precise, since he’d dreamt of Daehyun not returning. However, when he notices the digital clock, it tells him Daehyun’s already been two days late. _4/11._

Youngjae doesn’t brood on it, though. He starts his habitual acts around the house, mopping the floor, dusting the books, watering the plants and several other duties he fulfills everyday—or at least, has been mindlessly doing during the seventeen days Daehyun has been away. It’s the only way to keep himself occupied while waiting for Daehyun, since he hasn’t had much friends after his coming out.

Youngjae looks out of the window in the midst of cleaning the table. _The air must be getting rather polluted_ , he thinks to himself as he wipes the thick row of dust lounging on the wood.

Night falls but the door doesn’t creak open. When Youngjae turns into bed, Daehyun still hasn’t returned home.

 

 

 

_The receiver clicks back into place and Youngjae feels a plethora of emotions infusing his entire being. The way his lips quirk into a blinding smile is enough proof of how much Daehyun means to him. There’s an embarrassing bounce in his steps as he meanders about the house, performing his daily chores and wearing a silly grin throughout._

_Frequently, he glances to the clock and counts down the hours it’ll take for Daehyun to appear at their doorstep. Instinctively, Youngjae’s hand reaches for his cheek, and he envisages Daehyun’s hand on his skin._

_Youngjae smiles so hard it hurts._

 

 

 

Youngjae awakes alone in a bed meant for two.

He doesn’t say anything, feel anything or think anything as he gets off the bed, groggily batting his eyelashes against his cheeks. He wanders over to get his daily dose of caffeine and consumes his drink in one gulp.

It’s a little pathetic of him, Youngjae thinks, when he presses himself against the kitchen table and feels the familiar rim cutting into his hip. He imagines Daehyun pinning him against the counter, capturing his lips ravenously, hand reaching under his shirt and Youngjae shivers.

From the corner of his eye, he takes note of the overturned mug resting on the shelves. His pale fingers coil around the handle, and he examines the dust-infested cup. He carelessly wipes it with the nearby table cloth, tossing the rag into the sink. Didn’t he just clean this yesterday? And wasn’t Daehyun supposed to come back yesterday?

He’s a little nonplussed but he guesses that the dust mites are hungry and miss Daehyun too. Youngjae rips out a page of the calendar and falls under the belief that Daehyun’s returning today, though the digital clock shoots daggers at him. _5/11_. It’s unnerving, but he thinks he would rather trust the manual calendar because it gives him what he would rather have.

As usual, Youngjae scampers about the house, doing his chores. Unwantedly, darkness seeps into the house earlier than expected, taking Daehyun’s place and wrapping itself around Youngjae.

 _He’ll come back_ , Youngjae thinks as he climbs into bed. Something screams at him in his mind, but he can’t decipher the warning signs ringing in his head. He gruffly wipes the tears welling up in his eyes and buries himself underneath the sheets.

 

 

 

_Youngjae hums a melodious tune to himself as he dusts the bookshelves. It’s a song that Daehyun and him used to sing in their younger days. They’d always run to the karaokes after school ended, belting out notes and gazing at one another breathlessly._

_His bubbly steps are something he is sure Daehyun will laugh at him for but Youngjae can’t be bothered at all. Daehyun is finally returning, returning to him._

 

 

 

Youngjae opens his eyes, reaches for the space beside him and grasps only air.

A clenching feeling materialises in his heart as he wheezes out despondently, before getting up. He brews himself some coffee and scrutinises Daehyun’s mug. It’s awfully dusty, _again_ , Youngjae adds irritatedly in his mind.

He blows into the cup and coughs slightly, before placing it back. _I wonder if the dust-mites have formed some alliance_ , Youngjae laughs to himself as he dusts the television display cabinet. It’s strangely dirty too, and Youngjae blames the excessive number of cars that dominate the roads curving about the whole of Seoul. He reaches the end of the shelves and walks over to the calendar pinned onto the wall. He narrows his eyes and gently tears away a page. _2nd November._

_Did I dream about everything?_

He doesn’t look at the digital clock glaring at him on top of the television. Youngjae busies himself with things around the house, smiling softly as he comes across mementoes that denote each landmark in their relationship—their eternal love. He grabs Daehyun’s photo on the television set and runs a finger over his face. The yearning to hold Daehyun eats at his ribs and he wills himself to not cry.

When Youngjae finishes all of his tasks, he throws himself onto the bed and falls asleep. The front door remains shut.

 

 

 

_Putting some old records on, Youngjae hums as much too familiar songs resound through the room. He remembers how Daehyun used to score with every girl he serenaded to, ending up with several girlfriends throughout high school_

_Eccentrically, he ended up with Youngjae, the guy who laughs whenever Daehyun picks up a comb and screams at his mirror like a rockstar, choking on his spit later on. Love doesn’t have boundaries, Youngjae thinks to himself with a small chortle, eyes crinkling at the sides. He pats his eyes softly, pursing his lips. Daehyun loves showering him with compliments on what he calls Youngjae’s “eye smile”. He doesn’t know why, but Daehyun insists that he’s madly in love with the way Youngjae’s eyes turn into crescents when he smiles._

_In the midst of mopping the porcelain floor, Youngjae spots the mug he has avoided to prevent memories from soaring into his mind. Throughout the seventeen days, it has collected a small dust. He is about to clean it when he hears a piercing ring that slices through his joyful hymns._

 

 

 

Youngjae wakes up, but he doesn’t open his eyes when he feels no source of warmth by his side. The blanket pulled over his face pricks at his skin, his excuse as to why there are tears pooling at the edges of his eyes. He reluctantly gets up after a good while and makes some coffee. Youngjae blindly clutches Daehyun’s cup and lifts it up to eye-level.

Angry creases form just above where Youngjae’s nose bridge ends, and he squints at the dust infested cup. He’s dumfounded and of course, very annoyed, but he wipes it anyway.

The remnants of Youngjae’s dream grapples at his neck, holding down his inhales. He pushes all dread to the back of his mind and ambles out of the kitchen.

 _There must be really something wrong with our air_ , Youngjae grumbles in his mind as he fetches a wet rag. He runs it over the television screen which has a layer of blatant grey fixated on the screen. He steps over to the calendar and hesitantly tears out a page. _2nd November._

Something rises in his throat, tormenting and scalding, but he swallows it back down hurriedly. It’s been an endless nightmare for him, dreaming of Daehyun never coming back and waking up to find it’s actually the day of Daehyun’s return—a torturous repetition that some cursed entity from above has subjected him to.

Youngjae spins on his feet, glaring at the digital clock. 7/11. He ignores the two contrasting timekeepers in the house and presses down all feelings of apprehension. It’s the day that Daehyun will finally come back into his arms. He should be happy instead of dwelling on his dream.

He decides to clean the entire house again, leaving no area plagued by any form of dirt. At times, Youngjae looks to the door, and wishes mindlessly Daehyun will burst in and hug him. When Youngjae starts trembling, the dawning sense of foreboding that had always been there, only that he had chosed to ignore it, hits him hard.

Youngjae misses Daehyun’s touch; he misses Daehyun’s warmth too much.

The door doesn’t swing open at all for the whole day.

 

 

 

_Youngjae hops across the floor carefully, hoping he doesn’t slip and fall. His nimble steps bring him to their house phone, and he answers it._

_“Hello?” Youngjae’s voice still lingers with a tinge of reverie._

_He hears a hurried cough over the phone._

_“Hello, may I speak to the closest kin of Mr. Jung Daehyun?”_

 

 

 

Youngjae awakes in the middle of the night with tears streaming down his face. It doesn’t stop flowing as he pulls the blanket that once covered both him and Daehyun over his entire self, wrapping his arms around his shivering self. The wet warmth falling from his eyes stains the comforter that is barely able keep his warm, safe and secure. He grips his arms tighter and envisages Daehyun’s rough fingers on him, holding him tight. All it does is make him sob harder.

No words are enough to convey how much Youngjae yearns for Daehyun to be by his side as he shakes violently, covering his eyes behind his hands. Silence swirls around him terrifyingly and Youngjae wails, letting out choked gurgles as he clutches onto the edge of the blanket, praying for Daehyun to show up and chase away the demons of his fears.

Daehyun never comes, however, and Youngjae falls asleep with trail of tears running down his cheeks.

 

 

 

Youngjae wakes up without any memory of why he cried. Please, he begs as he opens his eyes nervously, watching the paint peel off the ceiling. _Let today be the real 2nd November._

He can barely understand his dream and so Youngjae simply gets off the bed and gets himself some coffee. He glares at the dust trail unrelenting on Daehyun’s mug and roughly wipes it. Youngjae steps towards the calendar and doesn’t look when he tears off the page. He falls into his daily routine, his everyday repetition, cleaning up the house while waiting for Daehyun to return.

Youngjae notices that the plants are dying, strangely. He’s not sure why, he waters them everyday. He gives them an extra dose of water, adds fertilizer and hopes their potted plants rejuvenates from their withering state.

Youngjae finishes the same chores he has done yesterday, and turns into bed. Daehyun isn’t back yet. Somehow, Youngjae has the feeling it’ll be the same thing tomorrow.

 

 

 

_“Sir-” Youngjae hears the man over the phone speak. The tremors of his voice tell of some hysteria he holds; Youngjae isn’t sure what it is about though. There is a surging feeling in Youngjae’s chest that grapples at his heart mercilessly._

_“Yes?”_

_Youngjae hears frantic whispers, loud shouts and rushing footsteps._

_“Mr. Jung has been-”_

 

 

 

Youngjae wakes up in cold sweat with an ear-piercing scream, tears deliriously running down his face, alone. He violently wipes at the wet warmth that doesn’t stop streaking down his face and goes to get a cup of coffee, praying it will calm his wrecking nerves. His heart is palpitating at a jackhammer’s ferocity, and he doesn’t know why. All he can think of is Daehyun as he sprints to the calendar in hopes that it’ll calm him. When he hastily rips out the front, the date _2nd November_ barely gives him the solace he desperately needs.

_Daehyun’s returning today. I can wait. Yes, I can wait._

Youngjae does his regular regimen filled with chores that he always does, a drill he never fails to complete—till he hears noises echoing from outside the house.

 _Daehyun_ , Youngjae's mind shrieks in tremendous ecstasy as he lunges and grabs at the doorknob, expecting Daehyun to be waiting with a hundred-watt smile and a tight embrace.

But as he glimpses out the peephole, he realises it isn't Daehyun who's waiting for him at their doorstep.

A raspy voice laced with phlegm murmurs out something incoherent, and Youngjae glances out to see two men, clad in dress suits, having a conversation outside.

"Did you hear that, Himchan-hyung?"

"Hear what?"

"The doorknob. I swear, hyung, it just made this clicking sound-"

"Shut up, Junhong. Are you even a man? How can you be scared of a house?" the hoarse, crackling voice snaps. The visibly younger man flinches and shrinks back, keeping quiet. Youngjae blinks and his hands slip down the wood of the door, back leaning against it as he shudders.

 _Who are they?_ Youngjae ponders on opening the door and asking, but he decides against it and prays Daehyun will turn up and protect him, protect their home, protect what they've built ever since the day they held each other in the night and exchanged vows that didn't need a cruel audience to verify.

The doorknob shakes and Youngjae leaps, hands clawing at his pants and he pleads with the heavens for Daehyun to appear. He hears hushed whispers he can't make out, and musters up courage to press his ear against the door, listening intently.

"Hyung, I really think we should go. I know we need to inspect the place but something seriously feels rather amiss..." the higher, squeaky voice says and silence follows.

"I hate to say this… but honestly, I'm not getting a good vibe either. Let's come back some other time,” is the last sentence he hears before the sound of leather shoes meeting the concrete floor resonate away.

The crumpled heap of what used to be a strong man lies at the bottom of the door and Youngjae sobs frenziedly into his hands. _Daehyun_ , he breathes out as their memories flash haphazardly past his eyes. He drags himself to bed, chanting Daehyun’s name like it’s his last lifeline before collapsing.

 

 

 

_Youngjae's quivering grip slips and the receiver crashes to the ground with a piercingly loud thud._

_"It can't be," Youngjae exhales shakily, and his previously shining grin leaves no trace on his now tear-streaked face._

_"No, no, no-"_

 

 

 

Youngjae gets out of a lonely bed with puffy eyes, shaky breaths and unstable steps. He doesn't reflect on the dream that has mangled his entire mind, and merely stares hollowly at the mug that is overwhelmed with dust, much more than he has seen before.

Youngjae wipes it, doesn't admire its shine because intuition tells him it will be similarly dirty again tomorrow—if tomorrow ever does come. He pours coffee into his cup, one second too late in his realization that his cup is a little dusty too.

He swallows down the bland liquid anyway, and rips out the paper that seems to be lying to him. He doesn’t understand what is going on. Why is it he keeps having the same nightmare of Daehyun never returning on the day he’s supposed to?

He mops the floor, dust the ornaments, cleans the windows, before watering the withering plants. They look as though all life has ebbed away from them—Youngjae really doesn't know what he is doing wrong. So he simply follows through with the actions he's used to, and waters the dying plants.

_He'll come back, I know he will._

He drifts into a deep slumber once his body makes contact with the bed.

 

 

 

_Youngjae sprints out of the house, leaving the door behind him unlocked as he crashes into the parapet wall. He pushes angrily against it and lunges down the stairs, bolting down several steps at once._

_He nearly trips at one point in time but Youngjae doesn't care if he smashes his face into the floor, he'd climb back up and throw himself down the building if he needed to._

_“Daehyun,” Youngjae breathes to himself as a cascade of tears flow freely from his eyes. He doesn’t attempt to interfere with the water running down his cheeks with a simple dash of his hand, because Daehyun’s the one that always does it for him._

_“No, Daehyun, please,” Youngjae’s lips whisper out near inaudible prayers. His legs overcome several flights of stairs and they aren’t relenting._

_“Please!”_

 

 

 

Youngjae's mind is numb the moment he exits the bedroom.

He doesn't stop to stare at the space that should've been occupied; he doesn't recall the dream of frantic running, hysterical pants and delirious chants; he doesn't observe how the curtains seem to have collected way more dust than he remembers.

Youngjae schleps to the kitchen and washes his dirty cup, gulping down his sweltering hot coffee. Daehyun's unused, dusty mug is wiped with a wet tissue, having garnered a huge amount of dust. He tears off the page with the same large number staring at his face, _2_ , and wonders if everything had just been a dream. The clock yells at him _11/11_ and for a moment, he thinks about Daehyun with his hands clasped, wishing for Youngjae to ace the test he forgot to study for. He had knuckled Daehyun’s head lightly, telling him not to be so foolish and believe in the whimsical.

He waters the plants that are at the brink of death. He mops the floor that is much too dirty for simply a day's passing. He cleans the windows that are completely filthy with smudges.

_Daehyun will come back, I'm sure he will._

The doorbell doesn’t ring. Youngjae allows the fatigue of a recurring, harrowing cycle to devour him as he climbs into bed.

 

 

 

_Turning sharply at dark corners and emerging into the light, Youngjae continues his undying sprint towards the road._

_Youngjae sees vehicles, cars and trucks rushing past him. He feels the strong gust of wind that blows past him but that doesn’t deter him. The main road is directly across, a couple of metres away._

_Youngjae doesn’t stop running. Hot, damp warmth obscures his vision and all he can make out is bright lights. He feels the rough road beneath the soles of his non-matching slippers, and suddenly, the sound of a blaring horn and skidding of wheels ricochets through his head. Everything moves too fast for him to comprehend and suddenly, a blinding light consumes his entire vision and Youngjae turns._

 

 

 

 _Daehyun_ , Youngjae thinks the first thing he wakes up in the morning, eyes snapping open, body shooting upright and hand flying over to touch Daehyun’s side of the bed. His heart palpitates wildly, shallow breaths leaving his mouth at much too short intervals. He doesn’t feel Daehyun’s well-crafted chest, the warmth radiating through his arm, Daehyun stirring with a soft grunt and taking Youngjae’s hand in consternation.

His eyes turn forlorn when his skin meets the cold bedsheets. Youngjae stays in the room for a few more minutes, snuggling himself against Daehyun’s pillow and trying desperately to bask in the last of Daehyun’s familiar scent. He tries to remember how it had been like with Daehyun’s comforting presence by his side.

Youngjae doesn’t really know what to do, think or say, so he flings himself off the bed afterwards, and heads for the kitchen. He brews himself some coffee, washing his cup of the dirt accumulated. He hesitantly stares at the brown liquid before taking a drink.

His coffee is exactly the same as it was before, burning the tip of his tongue, only more bland today. As Youngjae drinks the beverage, snippets of his dream replay in his mind. Ear-piercing sounds, the feel of heat between the sole of his shoes and the raven studs of a road and bright lights.

Youngjae furrows his eyebrows. He drags himself towards the calendar, tears off a page and stares at the date of Daehyun’s supposed return in his face.

_Just how many times has he gone through this?_

Youngjae looks to Daehyun’s mug. The layer of grey dust outlining the entire cup is horrifying, and Youngjae takes it carefully and wipes it. After tearing the calendar, his eyes avert their gaze to the digital clock, seemingly staring him right in the face. _12/11_.

Youngjae digs his fingers into the desk. He envisions Daehyun’s hand on his thigh, his laugh bristling the hair on Youngjae’s ear and Daehyun’s lips on his. He recalls the late nights they’ve spent making love, and Daehyun pulling him into his safe embrace as they fell asleep. He swallows and remembers his words, a promise he has made and repeated over and over again.

_I can wait._

Youngjae starts off the day with his fixed schedule. This cycle that he’s fallen into is like a cassette tape set on replay—Youngjae doesn’t break out of it. Neither does he stop waiting.

The furniture has gotten unbelievable grimy. He’s sure he cleaned it just yesterday, so why is it so grubby today?

As he runs the mop through the small gaps in the floor, he glances at the door. A daunting, heavy feeling weighs on his heart but Youngjae continues on, though his doubts and qualms don’t cease to plague his mind. _There's something wrong_.

Everything feels more surreal, more foreign as time passes further. His skin feels like they're slipping through the fabric of his clothes. The only thing that feels real is his memories of Daehyun, growing stronger with the misgivings weaved into his exhales.

The plants he’s been trying his best to nurture have nearly shriveled up. Youngjae doesn’t know how to return them to what once used to be green, healthy stalks.

Throughout the day, his hesitant eyes travel to the door. Hope is shred by the tension coursing through his veins as he glimpses to the digital clock again and again. He doesn't pay any heed to the paper calendar fluttering in the wind.

Youngjae turns into bed reluctantly. He hates sleeping alone, without Daehyun in his touch. A feeling of grave emptiness infuses his heart as he tosses and turns. The moonlight casts upon his bed, illuminating Daehyun's space that should be rightfully taken. Somehow, he feels like the moon is pitying him, occupying the spot to accompany him.

 _I can wait, because it's Daehyun_.

 

 

 

 _“It’s another five hours, right? I can wait,” Youngjae whispers, ear pressed against the receiver as he relishes the sound of Daehyun’s voice, the same one that’s told him_ I love you _time and time again. It’s early dawn but Youngjae isn’t one bit bleary as Daehyun’s the one on the phone with him._

_“I’ll be back soon, I promise,” Daehyun replies, and Youngjae closes his eyes, indulging in the familiarity of Daehyun’s voice. He’s been waiting for seventeen days, he can wait just another five hours—he can wait for Daehyun for as long as eternity._

_“I love you,” Youngjae’s voice trembles slightly as he grips onto the phone tighter, smile crawling up his lips._

_“I love you too, Youngjae,” Daehyun exhales in content and happiness as they exchange goodbyes. The receiver is placed back and Youngjae’s radiating smile is enough evidence of how much Daehyun means to him. Emotions suffuse his chest and Youngjae skips about the house, doing his daily chores._

_Occasionally, Youngjae looks to the clock and mentally calculates the remaining minutes it’ll take for Daehyun to arrive at their doorstep. Youngjae imagines Daehyun’s skin against his cheek, and bites on his lower lip to prevent his mouth from curling up anymore._

_Youngjae hums to himself the songs he and Daehyun once jammed to when they were younger while dusting the bookshelves. Youngjae would sing ballads that Daehyun described as breathtaking, and always said that if he became a singer, the whole world would love him. But all Youngjae really needs in an audience is Daehyun._

_The eager man finds that it’s a little humiliating that he’s prancing about the house like a high school girl who’s about to go out on her first date, but it doesn’t really matter to him because Daehyun’s finally coming back—to him._

_A familiar love song echoes from their record player. He remembers the day where Daehyun had ran his fingers through his wet hair in the downpour, kissed him gently and told him he’d never let Youngjae go. That they’d make it despite the contempt that had been thrown at them since they announced their relationship. Youngjae smiles softly at the memory, sighing._

_Youngjae does household chores for several hours, carrying out each task meticulously to ensure Daehyun comes back to a clean, neat home. When he bumps into the wall calendar while dancing, he reminds himself to tear yesterday’s date off as his hands are wet from wiping Daehyun’s desk._

_While mopping the floor, Youngjae stumbles upon the mug he has avoided to prevent him of thinking about his husband so many miles away. Throughout the seventeen days, it has accumulated a large amount of dust. About to clean the cup, a piercing ring cuts through Youngjae’s cheerful humming._

_Youngjae carefully steps across the room and answers the phone._

_“Hello?” Youngjae chimes, still in his reverie. A hurried cough sounds over the phone, before a voice echoes from the other end._

_“Hello, may I speak to the closest kin of Mr. Jung Daehyun?”_

_“That’s me,” Youngjae answers, sensing some sort of anxiety coursing through the other’s voice._

_“Sir,” the man’s voice quavers and a pregnant pause follows, and Youngjae furrows his eyebrows._

_“Yes?”_

_Youngjae hears frantic whispers, loud yells and hurried footsteps._

_“I am a representative staff of Incheon Airport, and regarding flight 003, passenger Mr. Jung Daehyun has supposedly been involved in-” Youngjae’s heart beats rapidly and he hears more anguished yells, and the man on the other line stops._

_“A… plane crash,” the man swallows thickly, and Youngjae’s mind goes completely blank. His heart stops, his brain switches off and his entire body freezes._

_“W-What?” Youngjae asks, releasing a nervous laugh. Is this a practical joke? Is this one of his bullies from high school who wanted some entertainment?_

_“Flight 003 has assumedly crashed a few hours ago,” the man says, and Youngjae doesn’t hear anything that comes afterwards—the reasons, the apologies, the consolations._

_The reciever slips out of his hand and lands with a crash on the ground. Youngjae’s eyes prickle with wet heat, his lower lip quivers and a whir of memories gust through his mind—Daehyun’s lips gently pressed against his, Daehyun’s thick arms wrapped protectively around his waist, Daehyun’s legs tangled with his-_

_That blinding, thousand-watt smile, those dark mocha eyes-_

_"It can't be…" Youngjae exhales shakily, body shivering as crystalline tears fall from his eyes._

_"No, no, no!"_

_Youngjae’s hysterical chant echoes through the silent house as he dashes out, leaving the door behind him unlocked. He slams into the parapet wall and steers himself to the staircase clumsily, never breaking his hasty sprint down the flight of stairs._

_I’ll be back soon, I promise._

_Youngjae’s eyes burn with tears and he nearly trips, but doesn’t decelerate. He doesn’t care if he sprains his ankle, breaks his legs or whatever, he needs to get to Daehyun._

_“Daehyun,” Youngjae’s quivering voice cries out softly, legs aching but he still keeps on running. He thinks of their fights that had ended with meek apologies and passionate kisses, their dinners spent in laughter accompanied with interlocked hands, their mornings of gentle touches and leaning into one another on the couch-_

_“No, Daehyun, please,” Youngjae begs deliriously, prayers leaving his trembling lips as he emerges from the darkness, finally out of their apartment complex. He is greeted by vehicles whooshing past him, currents clawing at his hysterical form. Across is the main road, where Youngjae can flag for a taxi that will take him to the airport._

_Youngjae doesn’t stop his reckless running. His vision is blurred by tears, tears that he doesn’t rub away because he’s used to Daehyun wiping them off for him. Blinding lights pierce his wet eyes and he continues rashly sprinting. The black, rough road burns into his feet and Youngjae-_

_He hears the sound of a loud horn. Tires that screech as friction wears them out, and a bright light engulfs him. The world is spinning too fast, and all Youngjae can make out in his blindness is Daehyun._

_The last thing Youngjae whispers is_ “I love you, Daehyun” _before he turns, and he feels brutal impact._

 

 

 

The next day, the house is silent, as it always has been.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N on top of the entire chapter that is an A/N (ಠ_ಠ): Hi~ I don't use ao3 a lot so I don't know how to use a lot of things. I don't know if people post author notes or in the thingy called "chapter notes", but because I couldn't link stuff inside there, I posted the loooooooooong author's note in a chapter! This was copy-pasted from AFF nyahaha~ ^o^

 

 

 

**Author's Note**

Thank you for reading Repetition! This story was inspired by Bang Yongguk's [I Remember](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2ae5qRWPCg). A similar underlying concept is used in the MV.

In China and Korea (some Asian countries), there is a superstitious belief that states when someone dies abruptly, their soul is trapped down in the world of the living and cannot ascend to heaven. This is because 1) they need to complete a goal of theirs on Earth and/or 2) they're unaware they're dead.

There are sightings of ghosts who frequent particular places, doing repetitive actions. I once read of this account where a construction worker passed on in a work accident while building an apartment complex. A girl who lived in the building often saw a man (the construction worker) walking out of her parents' bedroom with a pail of cement and disappearing into the kitchen. Also, in the Korean movie Hello Ghost ( _not a spoiler_ ), the ghosts only disappear after the main character fulfilled each of their wishes.

In this story, YJ has passed on in a car accident. YJ couldn't leave the world of the living because 1) he was waiting for DH to come back and 2) he died abruptly, so he wasn't aware that he had died. As a ghost, he constantly wandered the house, repetitively doing chores which he used to do to occupy his time while waiting for DH to come back. He isn't aware that DH has died and so has he, only until the end where his memories finally come back. In essence, he would have waited forever as YJ dwelled in the living realm in wait of DH.

Paragraphs in italics, YJ's dreams, were actually his memories. YJ was trapped in a mindless cycle -- he doesn't question much despite the weird happenings (things progressively getting dirtier; he actually didn't touched anything). 

_"When he bumps into the wall calendar while dancing, he reminds himself to tear yesterday’s date off as his hands are wet from wiping Daehyun's desk."_

On the actual day of Daehyun's return, he never did tear off the date 1st November even though he reminded himself to, due to the interruption of the phone call. So that was why it always returned to its original state of 1st November, tricking YJ into thinking that DH wasn't late in his return and yesterday had been a dream.

Also, YJ never talks. All the things he "says" are in italics, contrast to HC and JH's conversation in speech quotations.

Despite being a ghost, YJ still has a bit of "spiritual" energy here in the living -- like in those horror movies where things move by themselves. YJ lunged for the doorknob, thinking DH had came back when it was actually HC and JH who were coming to inspect the house (since both owners died). The surge of energy he had (happiness, then fear) was so strong that HC and JH felt a presence there (the doorknob rattling a bit) and decided to leave.

I'm sorry I had to put you guys repeatedly though YJ's cycles. It was to give off an extremely tedious feeling as YJ kept going at it without any thought. YJ is meant to represent people who live in the past and do not move on, even though the entire world has. YJ holding on to DH is parallel to people adamantly holding on to things like traditional values or old relationships that have faded as time passed. The paper calendar, an old invention, showed YJ what he wanted to see (DH's return date, thus keeping him in the delusional past that DH is still alive) while the digital clock told him the cruel reality that DH's return date has already passed and DH had died.

Also, 2nd November is All Souls' Day—day of prayer for the dead in Western Christianity.

There are other stuff left up to your interpretation, so feel free to share them! I'd love to hear your thoughts. This was a really old story of mine so my writing style was a lot more concise and different back then. If you guys have seen this story floating around, it's because I posted it up in 2012.

Hope you guys enjoyed reading! Thank you ﾟ･✿ヾ╲(｡◕‿◕｡)╱✿･ﾟ

 **Update** : I just found out what these spirits are called in Chinese folklore. ^^ 地缚灵 (dì fù líng) which means literally: Earth-bound spirit. They are ghosts who are bound to certain locations on Earth, such as their place of burial or a place they had a strong attachment to when they were alive.


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